


Not Afraid

by jojohere



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Lesson 16 (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) Spoilers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojohere/pseuds/jojohere
Summary: Was there a way your sense of fear and unease could exceed its regular threshold? In this case, maybe there wasn’t. Rather than a feeling of terror building up in your veins, you feel déjà vu wash over you as your body registers the feeling of sharp claws resting on your shoulders, threatening to tear the skin.
Relationships: Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	1. clearly you are not my pot of gold

**Author's Note:**

> fic+chap title insp: not afraid from carole and tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this originally started out as a cute little 500 word drabble fill for a lyric prompt from another song but then i kept writing and writing
> 
> now i have this monster to offer you. please mind the tags before reading.

Your chest felt warm and full, they didn't have to. 

Really, they didn’t need to.

It felt suffocating. Your cheeks hurt from the smile you kept plastered to your face and your throat was starting to hurt from forcing your laughter aloud.

Thankfully, the initial buzz of interest from the other partygoers had died down as the party went on. But even if you were used to being the only human surrounded by demons, it didn’t make their morbid curiosity any less perturbing. 

Nursing a glass of Demonus in one hand, you slowly inch towards the edge of the ballroom, the grand doors leading out only three small skips away.

A party? For you? Psh, that felt...weird. Really, really weird. On Diavolo's birthday? Of all days? It felt...wrong. really wrong. How was Lucifer okay with this? How was _Diavolo_ also okay with this? 

As soon as you see that no one has their attention on you, (thank you, Mammon for being your usual klepto self), you down the whole drink, trying not to choke on it, and set it down on an empty table and slip out of the ballroom.

Your feet carry you away from the brightly-lit ballroom and down the dim hallways. The tap of your shoes on the ground is muffled by the carpet covering the floor. Speaking of your shoes, you slip out of them and let out a relieved sigh at the feeling of your feet against the carpet. 

Sorry not sorry, Asmo, but these shoes _hurt_. 

Carrying the shoes with one hand, you extend the other to trail it against the wall. The rough texture of the stone against your palm helps clear the buzzing thoughts of your mind. Your eyes gaze at the many paintings and decorations adorning the walls. The castle is both beautiful and haunting, the prospect of walking through it by yourself thrilling and nerve-wracking at the same time.

Even though it's been several months since the retreat, you can still remember the tinny voice of Little D No. 2 recounting the history associated with the art sprucing up the castle's interior. Which painting to steer clear of, which artifact to give a wide berth, you can almost feel yourself being transported back to that moment in time.

You reach the end of the hallway (which then opens up to another series of maze-like pathways) and decide, maybe now would be a good time to go back, before the others noticed you were missing. 

The sound of lively music and hearty conversation grew louder the closer you came back to the ballroom. Your hand, half-raised to push the door open so you could slip back in as, drops back to your side.

You walk past the door and continue down the hallway. On second thought, you weren’t quite ready to head back in yet.

_Maybe some fresh air would be nice_ , you think as you slip on your shoes again and make your way outside.

…

A lone human walking through the Demon Lord’s Castle could very much be seen as a walking invitation to the destruction of the exchange program. Especially when that lone human was you, the one without any means of protecting themselves from demons, magic, or anything else that was lurking nearby with the intent to harm.

But whatever, your need for alone time—no—need to clear your head? Need for being as far from the center of attention as possible? Whichever it was—vastly outweighed the sense of caution you’ve developed during your stay.

You stop by the lakeside and gaze out across the still expanse of water. You can’t hear the sound of the party anymore, only the gentle slosh of water disturbed by the breeze and the rustling leaves from the swaying trees. 

The pitch black water and the sky were nearly identical mirror images of each other, with the twinkling stars and wide, round moon shining in their depths. In the center of the lake was a little island and on that island stood a gazebo. You spot a figure in the gazebo. Judging by the shape of the horns jutting out of the sides of his head—

“Belphegor?” You call out.

“MC? Why’d you leave the party?” He sounds surprised when he turns to see you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

He mumbles something quietly that your ears strain to hear.

“What was that?” You ask, cupping a hand over your ear.

“I said, I didn’t like parties.” he says, a little bit louder, tail flicking back and forth in irritation.

“Cool, I don’t either. How’d you get all the way there, by the way?” Your eyes scan the surroundings. The little islet where the gazebo sat looks to be completely surrounded by water with no walkways leading to it. Which begs the question—

“I swam,” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

A sharp laugh escapes your mouth at the mental image that appears in your head. You clamp a hand over it in surprise. Clearing your throat, you say, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. “ _Suure_ you did, but is there a _safe_ way for the magic-less human?”

“You’re a clever human, you’ll figure something out.” 

Rolling your eyes, you almost consider the prospect of jumping in when the sound of moving water draws your attention to a small boat moving towards you. There doesn’t seem to be a rope tied to it which could only mean…

“A magic gondola—they have _magical_ gondolas here!” You exclaim as you step on, child-like excitement buzzing through your veins. The boat rocks under your added weight before eventually balancing itself. As you get situated on the gondola, it starts moving towards the gazebo at a slow, relaxed pace.

Now that you think about it, a gondola was probably _not_ a gondola, and something more similar to Charon’s Ferry. Minus the undead ferryman himself.

The boat stops by a makeshift stone pier jutting out from the islet. With some effort to disembark (without tripping or falling), your feet manage to plant themselves on solid ground.

“When’d you sneak out?” You ask while walking up the steps.

“Dunno, when the party started?” He shrugs, unsure. 

“Lucky you,” you say, huffing. “I couldn’t leave until Mammon tried to swipe the silverware.”

“And you left him?” 

You make a helpless gesture with your hands, before leaning your back against the rail. “Needed a distraction to slip out. Didn’t want to spend another minute there.”

“You seemed fine when we arrived though,” He muses.

Your expression sours. “Until I found out I was a guest of honor.”

“Oh? But you don’t seem to be the anti-social type.”

“I’m not! But I think…” You pause to think about your next words, fidgeting with your fingers. “...I’d like it better if it was just us…”

_Wait, that sounded wrong._

“I mean, us and everyone else! Like a small- _er_ party!” You explain, words coming out in a rush.

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so.” His voice has a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes have a teasing glint.

" _Smaller_ party, I said.” You repeat, the finality in your tone leaving no room for anymore cheeky quips or remarks. Your ears go warm from embarrassment.

“With everyone else, I heard you,” he drawls, waving a hand. A beat of silence passes before he asks you, “did my brothers get to give you their gifts?”

Leave it to Belphegor to wring out all your uncomfortable thoughts and feelings without _actually_ forcing them out of you. A part of you was grateful for the gifts you received, happy at the gesture they’ve shown you. But at the same time, another part of you was feeling guilty for this happiness.

Your fingers grip the cool metal bars of the rail you’re leaning on, the sensation a grounding presence against the mess of thoughts his words elicited. Why was he asking this question in the first place? He didn't stick around for most of the party, why would he ask about it?

Unless...

Your mouth blurts out the question before your mind could finish the thought, “Did you leave because you didn’t have a gift?” 

A look of surprise crosses over Belphegor’s features before he turns away, a hand coming up to his face, fingers playing with a stray lock of hair. “...In my defense, I had a hard time figuring out what to get you,” he admits, slightly bashful.

“Wait, I was just joking, you didn’t really _have_ to get anything—” You straighten up, holding your hands out in defense. Your mind goes back to the time spent at Hell’s Kitchen, the grueling shifts and the bone-deep exhaustion afterwards, only to push past the fatigue to quickly find a reasonable gift to buy with the meager pay.

Correction, _two_ reasonable gifts to buy with the meager pay.

The guilt gnaws harder at you as you come to that realization.

"I wasn't able to get you anything, but I had something else in mind." He says, stepping closer.

Your body tenses up at the proximity, "Huh? What do you mean?”

Cool fingers wrap around your hand, the temperature making you jump in surprise. “Would you like to make a pact with me?” He asks.

A bewildered expression forms on your face, the only thing you can muster in response to the question. Belphegor was the last demon you were expecting to make a pact with. Didn’t he say that he was going to ‘enjoy his freedom’ when Solomon offered the prospect of making a pact? What happened to that?

No, this didn’t feel right. Even if you were usually plagued with unsureness and indecision, every cell in your body was telling you that this was definitely wrong. Telling you that there was something up Belphegor’s sleeve. Something behind his friendly smile that had every nerve in your body wanting to shrink away.

“What do you say, MC?” Expectant eyes wait for your response.

Weak protests spill from your mouth, incomplete fragments of sentences, “Why? But that time, when we were-you said you weren’t...what?”

He laughs, “Your reactions make it really easy to tease you.” 

No! You were genuinely confused here.

A wistful, almost pensive expression replaces his earlier amusement. “I guess I did say that, but…” He pauses as if to mull over his words. “You don’t seem like you’d take advantage of your pacts—”

_That wasn’t true. Just because you haven’t yet doesn’t mean that you weren’t ever going to take advantage of them in the future._

“—and don’t you think this would be a nice way to build trust? If I could be one of the first demons you turned to?”

_You didn’t want to be given this much blind trust. Not ever._

You shake your head, a lump grows in your throat. “...No.” You take in a shuddering breath and repeat the singular word, voice quiet. “I don’t think I would be a good person to have a pact with... I’m sorry.”

A shadow flickers over his features, dark and looming, easy to miss if you weren’t watching closely. His usual frown settles over his lips as he sighs. “...That’s understandable. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

Pulling your hand out of his grip, you cradle your palm close to your chest, apologizing again. You turn away, unable to face him. The last time you rejected an offer to make a pact, the other demon threatened to ‘cut you up and feed parts of you to lesser demons.’ A part of you was grateful that Belphegor was civil about it, but the initial sense of unease dissipates and the burdensome feeling of guilt replaces it.

Was this his way of offering to make up for that time? His way of promising not to hurt you again? Surely, there were other ways of going about that. But, you think that he didn’t have to apologize for how his guilt turned

Maybe it would be better if you changed the topic to something else. But as you open your mouth, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, caging you in their hold. Your words get caught in your throat and your body goes stock-still.

“What if we were in a situation where I could hurt you?” he asks in a low voice, the invisible threat his words held hang over your head. “What would you do then?”

Was there a way your sense of fear and unease could exceed its regular threshold? In this case, maybe there wasn’t. Rather than a feeling of terror building up in your veins, you feel déjà vu wash over you as your body registers the feeling of sharp claws resting on your shoulders, threatening to tear the skin.

Your thoughts grow clear for once. This was something you were more used to, the thought of death. The way it made its way through your day-to-day thoughts and rested comfortably nearby you. It had turned from a frightening monster into something that felt almost familiar. 

Your hand rises to wrap around his wrist as you say, “I think you would’ve done that by now if you really wanted to.”

Truthfully, if he did it right now, you don’t think you would mind bleeding out in a quaint little gazebo under a sky full of stars. It would be a pretty sight to see before you went, you suppose. Rather than being surrounded by frantic screaming and—

“Hey! What’re you doing all the way there, huh? You’re supposed to be at the party!” A loud voice calls out, breaking your train of thoughts.

Head turning to where the voice came from, you spot Mammon along with Beelzebub and Asmodeus standing at the lakeshore. They probably went to look for you. 

You feel Belphegor let go of you, he quietly grumbles to himself, “Great, company.”

A soft yet hollow laugh pulls from your chest at his reaction. “Guess we’re having that smaller party now.” 

Your earlier thoughts slip away from you, like water in a stream, giving way to an exhaustion that you cover with a practiced smile plastered to your face. Linking your arm together with his, you ignore his surprised expression and wave at the three other demons, calling out to them excitedly.

....

As you close and lock the door to your bedroom behind you, you drag your sore feet to the bed and flop down on it with a loud thump.

Now that you were alone, there weren’t any more distractions between you and your thoughts. Your fingers clutch at your wrist, thumb and index finger pressing down on the little protrusion the bone made

Five pacts. 

You never really had much time to think about why they made you so uneasy.

Maybe, you just never really had much time to yourself until now.

It didn’t make sense, any human would feel an immense sense of pride at having made pacts with five of the most powerful demons of the Devildom. But here you were, lying in bed with a heavy pressure sitting on your chest at the thought of that. Beads of sweat form on your palm as you ask yourself, what is a human like you supposed to do with your pacts? If anything, you felt as if you were holding them back and chaining them down, burdening them with a connection to you.

There wasn’t anything particularly special you needed from them so why would you force them to do your bidding?

Was there a way to free them from your control?

If you could find a way to do that…

Your train of thought trails off as the fatigue from the night’s party catches up to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate ending:
> 
> "I wasn't able to get you anything, but I did had something else in mind," he says, stepping closer.
> 
> Your body tenses up at the proximity. "Huh? What do you me--JESUS YOUR HANDS ARE COLD."
> 
> He gives you an unimpressed look.
> 
> "Wait I'm sor-AAAAAH YOU'RE SQUEEZING MY HAND OW OW OW YOU'RE GONNA BREAK IT"


	2. i was young not too long ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guess whos not dead
> 
> sorry for the long wait, i hope yall enjoy reading :D
> 
> disclaimer: descriptions of violence + asphyxiation, updated the tags so please check those out before reading

You laughed too much.

It was the first thing Belphegor noticed upon meeting you. The way you would punctuate almost all of your sentences with an awkward huff of laughter. How your lips were always forced into a smile that was too wide, with too much teeth. How a hand would busy itself with fidgety fingers.

It wasn’t creepy, per se, but the fact that you did it so often grated his nerves. 

And you were really talkative. Words tumbled from your mouth, going on and on and on, without an end to your sentences.

Of _all_ the humans they picked for the exchange program, it had to be this one.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” He asked, impatience slipping into his voice as he gripped the metal bar of the attic door. The thrum of magic hummed beneath his fingertips, reminding him of his imprisonment.

“No, I don’t think I have anything to do,” you reply, somewhat unsure.

“Lucifer’s going to punish you if you don’t do your tasks,” Belphegor warns. He watches a nervous look cross your features, before it shifts into one of concern (which sends a twinge of irritation through him. He _hated_ that look, wanting to reach through the bars and claw that expression off of your face. You had no right to feel pity—)

“I could stay and talk with you for a bit, I have time. Don’t you get lonely up here?”

His hold on the bar tightens. “I’m used to being alone... I don’t mind it.” 

The frown on your face deepens, you probably didn’t believe his words, but at the same time you didn’t press the topic any further. A resigned, “alright…” leaves your lips and you turn to head down the stairs, but not before giving him one last look over your shoulder.

He watches your figure disappear down the steps, before stepping back from the attic door. Despite having decorated the attic to make it look lived in and _not_ empty, the all-too-familiar sense of loneliness returns, encompassing and suffocating him. Crushing him in its hold. Making him feel smaller than he was. 

How many days has it been since he had been locked up in here? He lost the motivation to keep count weeks ago. Time slipped through his fingers as he spent most of his days laying in bed. As much as he was asleep for most of it, the times when he was _(unfortunately)_ wide awake were filled with a million questions and scenarios running through his mind.

What was everyone getting up to nowadays? Did the thought of him ever cross his brothers’ minds? Or had they gotten used to life without him?

Well...that thought stung. 

As much as he didn’t want to give in to those thoughts, once they started pouring in, they were going to linger for as long as they wanted to. 

Flopping down on the bed, he blindly reached for his cow-print pillow and hugged it to his chest, fingers toying with the dangling feather. The sensation, a comforting one against his skin.

Sometimes, when he was too tired to feed into his anger, he found that slipping into the past, the time when he and his brothers still lived in the Celestial Realm, helped. Times filled with bright, sunny skies. But they left him longing for the white wings that used to adorn his back, the rush of wind past him. A time that he could never return to.

A generous love for all living beings. A deep-seated sureness that tomorrow would come, just as the sun would rise for tomorrow. Faith in their Creator.

Things he didn’t have anymore, not after Falling.

Just like his brothers, he was one of the seven Avatars of Sin, warped into a disgusting personification of evil. But unlike his brothers, ever so loyal to the Demon Prince, he was waiting for his chance, biding his time, to exact his revenge on humans. Starting with you.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a warm, gentle sense of comfort washed over him, letting his rage ebb away. 

Was that from Beel?

He almost forgot what his twin’s emotions felt like after being apart for so long. Every so often, however, if either of their emotions was strong enough, if he reached out for _just_ a bit, he could pretend that he was still by Beel’s side, not trapped in the attic.

The small sliver of happiness, akin to a tiny ray of sunshine, he clung to it like a lifeline.

Belphegor wondered, just what was Beel seeing that made him—or, well, the both of them—feel that way?

If anything, at least one of them was happy. And he knew Beel deserved that.

…

“You’re so stupid that I can’t help but laugh. Don’t blame me for tricking you, blame yourself for falling for it.”

Belphegor watches with cruel delight as you weakly pry at his hands wrapped around your throat. A sadistic sense of glee fills him as he watches your initial surprise turn to anguished betrayal.

“Does it hurt? Finding it a little hard to breathe? I’m sure it must be very unpleasant.” He squeezes, forcing out a pained cry from your lips. 

“Belphie…” A myriad of emotions flicker across your eyes as the last vestiges of your life escape. Your hands fall to your sides, useless. The blinding light that emanated from your soul slowly dimmed, leaving behind the lifeless husk of your body.

He waited. One second. Two seconds. A full minute, and then another. Then, his fingers flexed, squeezing tighter until—

_Crack!_

Your head lolled to the side, limp and bent at an unnatural angle. Blood trickled out the corner of your mouth.

Manic laughter spilled from him. He shouldn’t have been able to end Diavolo’s pet project this way.

Not once would he have expected the very human to make it this easy for him.

What were you expecting your naivete to bring you? A family reunion? Happiness for him and his brothers? You were delusional if you were hoping for any of those things.

Dragging your body by the back of your collar, he left the attic and made his way down the stairs, moving away from the same stone walls that entrapped him and into the House of Lamentation proper. Blunt thuds echoed as your body hit each step, bruising and battering it more and more.

Not that you could feel anything anymore.

Strange, while everything in the house still looked the same, there was something about it that made it feel… different. His gaze drifted down to your motionless body. Whether it was intentional or not, it was because of your doing.

The sound of conversation and a door opening caught his attention just as he was about to step into the foyer. That earlier sense of wild excitement started building up once again as he turned to see his brothers walking out of Mammon’s room.

Tension stretched across the hallway as the conversation abruptly stopped. A mix of surprise and joy formed on their faces as they saw him.

Beel was the first to break the silence, asking, “Belphie? You’re home?” 

As he finally faced his twin after months of being separated, Belphegor felt a smile, a ghost of his genuine one, form on his face. “Yeah.” 

Mammon chimed in, “Belphie? What’re you doing home early?”

“Lucifer didn’t give us any news,” Satan remarked.

Of course, Lucifer wouldn’t say anything about that. He wondered how they would react when they found out that he’d been locked up in their house for all this time.

“We have a lot to catch up on. Oh, and there’s someone I- _we’d_ like you to meet.” In his excitement, Beel walked forwards, about to hug Belphegor, but before he could, Levi’s arm shot out to stop the male from stepping closer. “Wait, he’s got—”

Their eyes followed Levi’s gaze to spot your still body hanging from his hold.

“No!”

“MC!”

Belphegor’s smile widened into a grin, eyes crinkling into crescents as he lifted you up for them to see. “I think we’re already quite acquainted.”

The heartwarming reunion grew cold with dread. His brothers were torn between hostility and disbelief. One by one, his eyes drifted over each of them, gauging their reactions. Mammon looked ready to lunge forward, if it weren’t for Levi and Asmo holding him back. Beyond that, they seemed frozen, unsure of what to do. 

“Let me at him, he’s hurt MC—” He struggled against his younger brothers.

“Mammon, you idiot, do you think that’s going to help MC?” Asmo hissed, seemingly without any bite, as his eyes were trained on Belphegor and you.

“This can’t be real, it can’t—” Levi muttered to himself, probably still processing the fact that this was happening in front of him.

Satan’s demeanor seemed to be the calmest, but his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw showed otherwise. Beel’s expression fell, giving way to hurt. And Belphegor could _feel_ it—

It hurt. In all the millennia that they’ve lived through, why did _this_ human matter so much to them? Matter to them over their own brother? Belphegor couldn’t believe it.

“What? Is this all your first time seeing a dead human?” he asked.

Mammon growled, “Let them go, they didn’t do anything to you!”

“Belphie, just...let them go.” Satan repeated, hands held out in a placating gesture. (While his voice was steady, the blond’s hands shook ever so slightly.)

Beel’s voice is hollow, no anger or anything of the sort in it. “Why… would you do something like that Belphie?” he asked. 

And Belphegor could have retorted with questions in return. Why was Beel on _their_ side? Was he not their brother as well? Weren't they supposed to be family?

If he focused on his anger, on his frustration, on his pain, he wouldn’t notice Beel’s growing sense of betrayal welling up inside him. Threatening to swallow him up—

The youngest brother’s expression darkened into a scowl. “We’re demons, in case you forgot. A human’s supposed to be _nothing_ to us.” With those words, he flung your body at them.

“No!” Mammon wrenched himself out of his younger brothers’ holds, scrambling for you. As if you were made of glass, he cradled your broken body. “Hang in there, MC!”

“Are they going to be alright?” Asmo asked, with a surprising amount of concern for another.

Satan started to answer, but trailed off, “With injuries that-like that…”

“No! You can’t die! They can’t die!”

“Just _what_ kind of ruckus are you all getting up to—” The door to Lucifer’s study opened, revealing the eldest brother, a lecture at the ready until he took in the sight. The words died in his throat, leaving him unable to say anything else aside from, “...Belphie?”

This day kept showering him with more and more surprises. A pesky human, too naive and gullible for their own good... his brothers, the strongest demons of the Devildom distraught over a dead human... and Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, rendered speechless.

“Look who decided to show up,” Belphegor drawled, his tail flicking back and forth idly. “You’re late, what would Lord Diavolo think?”

Any trace of earlier’s alarm disappears as Lucifer’s expression sets, a harsh scowl settling on his features. 

Belphegor didn’t hate Lucifer, far from it. He did admire the former angel at one point, for being strong and resolute enough to fight for what he believed in. Unafraid to stand for what he thought was right, even if their own Creator thought otherwise. Now, the eldest was reduced to a Demon Prince’s lapdog. Always at his beck and call, over his own family. Belphegor hated what Lucifer became.

Lucifer bristled, his voice lowering into a growl, “What are you doing _here_?”

“Oh?” Belphegor feigned innocence. “I thought you already told them about locking me up in the attic, or... was I supposed to be the one to tell them?”

“Lucifer did what?!” Beel looked at Lucifer in alarm. “You _lied_ to us?”

“Beel, I—” Lucifer started to answer, but seemingly grew second thoughts about what he was going to say, and instead decided to stay silent.

“Well either way, now they know,” Belphegor smiled at the look of disdain sent his way.

Satan spoke up, “He probably had a good reason... It was for MC’s safety, wasn’t it, Lucifer?”

“What a load of good that did—” Mammon rounded on Satan.

“But doing that to your own brother...” Asmo’s words trailed off, his gaze flicking between the twins, deciding not to speak his thoughts.

Belphegor ignored them, continuing to talk to the eldest of the seven, “Have you forgotten that Lilith _died_ because of a human, Lucifer? Oh wait, that doesn’t matter to you, since you only care about what Lord Diavolo tells you to do.”

Lucifer’s expression darkened. “Everything I do is for this family, you can’t even begin to understand—”

“Pft.” A sharp bark of laughter escaped Belphegor. “‘For this family?’ Those are big words coming from someone like you, Lucifer.”

Black-feathered wings erupted from the Avatar of Pride’s back, his horns sprouted from the sides of his head. A fire blazed inside his red irises. _That must’ve been a sore spot,_ Belphegor surmised. _Good._

“Mammon. Take MC and leave.” Lucifer’s gaze pinned Belphegor in place, the youngest instinctively buckling under the force behind the eldest brother’s words. An imposing aura of power and authority emanated from Lucifer as he closed the distance between him and Belphegor. “ _You_ are going back to the attic.”

Satan spoke up, “Wait, Lucifer, don’t you think we could talk this out?”

“Maybe I should call Lord Diavolo, or Barbatos, or—” Levi fumbled for his D.D.D.

“No. Stay back!” Lucifer’s words should have left no room for any argument. But stubbornness seemed to be a shared trait among them as they still stood there, torn.

“I’m not going back there.” Belphegor’s voice didn’t tremble. He wasn’t going to be locked up again, no, just thought of being alone like that _again_ —

Lucifer responds, his tone icy, “You don’t get to decide that, Belphegor.”

“Right, that’s because you let Lord Diavolo decide everything for you,” he spat, the words laced with bitter venom. 

The air crackled with electricity as magic gathered towards the demon’s open palm. “Diavolo would do worse than what I would.” The last of Lucifer’s composure gave way to rage as he hurled a bolt of magic towards Belphegor. 

White hot pain exploded across his nerves, searing and burning the center of his chest. His hand searched for where the wound would be, finding that—

The blow never came to him as Beel shielded him from the attack. Despite being in immense pain, he stood between the two, having shifted into his demon form. “I won’t let you hurt Belphie!” He gritted out, breathing heavily.

Lucifer readied another attack, the magic arcing across his fingers. “Are you going to defy me as well, _Beelzebub_?” 

“If it means keeping my family out of harm’s way, then I will,” the sixth brother responded, resolute. His words seemed to have struck something within Lucifer, the other’s eyes widening in surprise.

Besides the pain, Belphegor could feel his twin’s fear. Of that time before they Fell. Of having to choose between him and Lilith. He reached out, grasping the back of his brother’s jacket. “Beel, move out of the way. You’re hurt.” 

Beel shook off Belphegor’s hand. “No. No more fighting, MC was already hurt.”

“They’re _dead_ , Beel,” he said, growing frustrated.

“Dead?” An eighth voice spoke up, the sound pouring ice water down Belphegor’s back. He turned to where it came from, spotting you at the foot of the stairs. Standing, unscathed, as if you hadn’t just died by his hand. A bewildered expression grew on your features as you took in the scene before you. 

This day just kept giving Belphegor more and more surprises. But he was sure that he didn’t appreciate this one. 

“Aha…” A weak laugh left you. “Guys, I’m _alright_ ...I’m right here, aren’t I?” It was as if _you_ couldn’t believe what was happening in front of you. 

“MC, you’re okay!”

Were you a ghost? Or did you have a secret twin? A doppelganger? Were you even human at all? 

“Then... who’s this MC?”

Your hand flew up to your neck as your gaze met his, the other coming up to brace itself against the banister. The realization slowly dawned on you as you pieced together what was happening. While Beel stood in between him and Lucifer, Belphegor knew that not a single one of his brothers was close enough to protect you. 

And you knew this too. You turned to run back up the stairs, but your foot caught on the edge of the stair and you tripped, almost falling face-first, knocking your chin against the step. Your frightened eyes looked over your shoulder as you scrambled to get back up on your feet.

His blood roared in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. Moving to lunge towards you, Belphegor’s outstretched hand almost closed around your ankle when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, pinning his other arm to his side. “Beel…! Let go of me!” he growled, struggling to escape the larger demon’s hold.

“No!” Beel refused to budge. _Fine, if he was going to be that stubborn_ —

Using his free hand, Belphegor dug his claws into the tender wound where Lucifer’s attack hit Beel, forcing out a pained groan. But still, even then, he stubbornly held onto him.

“Belphie, don’t do this…” Beel pleaded, his eyes searching for any remorse or empathy in his twin’s. Belphegor’s grip grew slack, blood dripping from his fingertips. A numb sense of betrayal overwhelmed the pain he shared with Beel. 

He thought that he would understand what he was feeling at this very moment. But just like the others, he cared for this human over everything else. He could feel the fierce protectiveness that Beel held for his loved ones. And Belphegor felt like he was vanishing in front of them. Slowly disappearing and being replaced by you.

The corners of his eyes burned, unshed tears welling up in them. His usual sense of lethargy returned, draining away all of his earlier rage and frustration. At this point, he was just tired. There wasn’t anything he could do to change Beel’s feelings. Much less his brothers’ feelings. 

He was going to return to the attic, to be alone—

“I won’t let Lucifer lock you up again,” Beel promised, slowly releasing his hold on Belphegor, helping him to his feet.

“You don’t know that.” A twisted part of him thought that Lucifer was going to lock the both of them up. He shouldn’t have felt relieved at that. 

“Beelzebub. Belphegor.” In surprise, the two demons turned to see the Demon Prince and his butler standing at the entrance of the hallway, looking as if they had just arrived in a hurry. “I got Leviathan’s call,” Diavolo explained, holding up his D.D.D. 

_Great._ Belphegor guessed that he was going to end up somewhere worse than the attic at this point. His gut churned with unease at the sight of them. Your dead body already was enough incriminating evidence against him. Belphegor spared a glance at Mammon only to see—

Nothing.

The second eldest brother’s hands were at his sides, clenched into tight fists.

“Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, I can explain—” Lucifer’s tone was terse as he acknowledged their presence, almost as if he was flustered at being caught in the current state he was in. The eldest demon quickly returned to his human form, his horns and wings vanishing. 

_Where did your body go?_

The other you was still at the staircase, a hand braced against the wall to support your weight. You spared a glance towards Mammon and the others, unsure about whether to go towards them or not. 

Belphegor wondered belatedly, if he were to try and attack you while everyone’s attention was focused on the Demon Prince, would that be worth it? No, maybe he had to change tactics, put on a friendly facade in front of you and everyone again until he could. But what if he ended up being put under heavy surveillance because of this? He quickly stamped out the rising fear in his gut.

“Belphie.” Beel’s low voice brought him out of his thoughts. “We’re going to the common room. Lucifer and Lord Diavolo are going to explain everything.” His twin gently tugged at his arm. 

Belphegor let himself be led by Beel, leaving the hallway empty. “Are you mad, Beel?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His twin didn’t reply immediately, carefully mulling over his words. “I...don't know," he replied, briefly meeting Belphegor's gaze before turning to look ahead.

“I see.” Even though he was free from the attic, even though he was finally reunited with his twin, the youngest brother still felt just as alone and isolated in this very moment.

And Belphegor found that it hurt more than having a human chosen over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> id like to thank @/kimabegay for being my beta reader and for putting up with me as i wrote this chapter.
> 
> this part of the story ended up being wayyy longer than expected so there's gonna be a second part (still in belphie's pov) and then it'll flip back to mc's pov in the present

**Author's Note:**

> for those interested,,, i have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/panpandpen) where i (smtimes) scream abt 2d men and mostly scream about writing


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